The Savior looked on Peter. Ay, no word,
No gesture of reproach! the heavens serene,
Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean
Their thunders that way! the forsaken Lord
Looked only, on the traitor. None record
What that look was, none guess: for those who have foreseen
Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,
Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,
Have missed Jehovah at the judgement-call.
And Peter, from the height of blasphemy –
“I never knew this man” – did quail and fall,
As knowing straight that God, – and turned free
And went out speechless from the face of all,
And filled with silence, weeping bitterly.
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